Page 63 of Awaiting the Storm
“All of it,” she insists.
So, I do.
I tell her about the Foraged Bistro and the moment I walked in and saw him standing there, looking like trouble in denim and a white dress shirt. We ordered our food, and before it arrived, he outlined the deal he and Holland had crafted. He handed me the proposal after presenting his pitch—earnest, generous, and much more than I had expected. All I could feel in that moment was shame. Not toward him, but toward myself, for the failure I hadn’t been able to escape. It was the weight I had been carrying for far too long.
Then I tell her that just as the food arrived, I suddenly left—more like ran away—because I didn’t want him to see me cry. But he followed me. When he pulled me into his arms in that gravel lot, something inside me opened up. It didn’t feel weak; it felt empowering.
And then we kissed.
And I’d never been kissed like that. Not ever.
I pause there, the memory fresh enough to make my skin warm.
Charli whistles low. “Damn. And then?”
“We went back to his cabin.”
“Right,” she says, trying not to grin. “And?”
“And … things got hot and heavy, but we didn’t get very far before you called. About Daddy.”
She leans her head on my shoulder. “God, that night feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Yeah. I haven’t really had time to process it all. Not Daddy’s scare. Not the thing with Caison. I don’t know if I’m ready to face any of it.”
She’s quiet for a second, then says, “Do you want to cancel?”
The question makes something twist inside me.
“I thought about it,” I admit. “Not because I don’t want to see him. I do. But I don’t know what he’s expecting tonight or what I’m expecting. I’m just a bundle of uncertainty. And I don’t like the way it feels.”
Charli lifts her head. “That’s fair. But, Matty … you’ll never know what’s between you and tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome Caison Galloway unless you take a chance to find out.”
I meet her eyes, and she grins.
“You don’t have to have it figured out tonight,” she says. “Just … go. Eat some pizza. Listen to music. Laugh. Let him look at you like he did last time. Let yourself feel something good. And if the opportunity presents itself … ravage that cowboy.”
I burst out laughing. “Okay.”
She dangles the burgundy lace panties in front of me. “Just in case?”
I roll my eyes, but take them and walk to the bathroom.
Because the truth is that I want to feel good tonight. I want to remember what it’s like to be touched by a man, not because he wants something from me, but because he truly wants me. Even though I’m still figuring out my feelings for Caison, I know I’m not ready to walk away.
Not yet.
Iease the truck up the long driveway to Wildhaven Storm.
It’s been a while since I went on an actual date. In college, I had girlfriends, but most of our dates involved me walking across campus to their place for a night of Netflix and Chinese takeout or occasionally going to a frat party, where we’d drink cheap liquor and play beer pong. In Texas, there were women—lots of women—but none of the connections lasted more than a night or two. I was more focused on building my résumé than on building a relationship. Now, however, things are different. Being back home has awakened a longing for something more. Or maybe it’s Matty who has awakened that desire.
I bring the truck to a stop in front of the house, and the screen door creaks open.
And she steps out.
She’s wearing jeans that fit her like they were painted on—tight enough to leave my mouth dry and my brain misfiring. But it’s not just the jeans that cause my heart to stop; it’s the sweater. It’s slouchy and soft-looking, slipping down off her left shoulder and revealing smooth, sun-kissed skin that I want to press my mouth against. Yet even that isn’t the main attraction.
It’s her hair.
